


i fear no fate

by InsolitaParvaPuella



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Buried Alive, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Marianne von Edmund Needs A Hug, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsolitaParvaPuella/pseuds/InsolitaParvaPuella
Summary: Four occasions in which Marianne and Dedue were in pain, and one in which they were not.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Dedue Molinaro
Kudos: 5





	i fear no fate

**Author's Note:**

> title brazenly stolen from E. E. Cumings' "i carry your heart with me" .
> 
> This fic contains passively suicidal thoughts from Marianne. it also features a lot of bad things happening to Marianne and Dedue. happy whumptober <3
> 
> oh, and this fic is technically in the same "continuity" as ["ivy and linden and bridal veil"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354376), though it should stand fine on its own. i'll put them in a series together eventually.

Marianne awoke, gasping, and then choked on the thick dust in the air. It was dark and her ears were ringing. Her legs were in agony. She was trapped on her stomach in pitch darkness. This had to be it; she would bleed out and die under a pile of rubble that had once been a home. At least the family had gotten out safely. Only a little more suffering, and then the Goddess would take her home.

The battle had been raging when the house collapsed on her, knocked down by a spellcaster looking to do the most damage possible. Marianne didn’t understand why anyone would resort to such cruelty, but that wasn’t what anyone needed from her. Someone wiser could explore the cruel philosophies of beings like Solon. All the Professor ever asked from her was white magic to sustain her classmates and a sword to defend their blindspots. Marianne wasn’t good for much, but she could follow the Professor’s orders. 

But no, in the end she’d abandoned her task—following Dedue as he pierced enemy lines and ensuring his health—as soon as some other cause caught her eye. Perhaps the house collapsing on her was her punishment for disobeying the Professor. But Marianne couldn’t bring herself to regret her actions. She could only hope the Goddess would forgive her many transgressions.

It was strange, but Marianne could only hear her own breathing and the continuous ringing in her ears, but not the battle. Perhaps it was over. She had no way of knowing how long she’d been unconscious. Or perhaps she was so deeply buried that no sound could penetrate. Either could be true. It was a miracle she survived the initial collapse, and even more so that only her legs were being crushed.

Somehow, she was both deeply in pain and completely numb. She knew her legs were at least pinned to the ground, if not completely destroyed. And her whole body ached. But at the same moment, she couldn’t pinpoint the pain. Above her, the rubble shifted. Marianne raised her arms over her head, and some stones bounced off them. Then, she heard a voice. She couldn’t be sure what they were saying, but it was high and piercing. More shifting rubble.

It was impossible. But unless she was in a dying dream, someone was above, trying to rescue her. 

“I’m here!” she called. She coughed again as she inhaled. The high, piercing voice rang out again. Could it be Hilda?

More shifting rubble, closer to her this time. Everything above her groaned, more dust and stones fell down. But somehow, nothing more fell on her. A beam of light pierced the dark.

“Marianne?” Hilda screamed.

“I’m here,” she wheezed. The beam of light expanded out, then was blocked by Hilda’s face. The smile on her face vanished under a look of deep shock.

“Oh, Goddess…!” she gasped. She fell aside, and the Professor’s face came into view. Her expression barely shifted.

“Marianne, can you move?”

“No,” she answered.

“Dedue, we’ll need to clear more material. Please be careful,” the Professor said, looking up and out. Dedue must have been above, helping to clear the pile. “Marianne, keep talking to me. Count to a thousand, if you need to, but keep talking.”

The ringing in her ears hadn’t stopped, Marianne realised, only faded to the background. Had her hearing been damaged? But she heard the Professor clearly. She tried to count loudly, casting her voice up to Hilda and the Professor and whoever else was up there, but the dust made her cough again and again. She wheezed her way to a hundred, then two hundred. Her throat felt scratchy and sore. The pain in her legs was beginning to make itself known.

At five hundred, more light burst in from above. She was no longer peering up at Hilda from a hole in the rubble; the dark grey sky poured light down on her. There was a gasp. She craned her neck to look up and saw Dedue, his face ashen. He was looking at her legs. Pinned as she was, Marianne couldn’t turn to look. But it had to be terrible, to shake Dedue so.

“Professor, she needs care urgently!” he called above. Tired, Marianne lowered her head again. She was somewhere in the five hundreds. She started counting again at five hundred fifty, so with any luck she would be close.

At five hundred seventy-three, sparks of white magic zipped across her skin, chasing away some small portion of her pain and exhaustion. All white magic did the same thing, but Marianne could identify the caster by how their magic felt. Marianne’s own white magic settled like fog and the Professor’s came in sparks of energy.

“Mercedes, wait until we have her legs splinted before you cast,” the Professor called, her voice firm but unemotional. “We don’t want to have to re-break her legs so they mend properly. Marianne, keep counting!”

Marianne hadn’t realised she’d stopped, as a haze creeped over her mind.

“Five hundred eighty,” she croaked, determined to think only of the numbers. If the Professor wanted her to count to a thousand, she would do it. Even as the rubble above her shifted and rumbled, and one final cloud of dirt poured on her and sent her into a terrible coughing fit. She needed water for her aching throat, but she would not fail the Professor this time. She reached seven hundred and sixty-two before she realised the gap above her had opened up.

Twisting awkwardly, she saw Dedue, Hilda, and the Professor stepping carefully down to her.

“Hilda, you and I are going to move the stuff pinning Marianne’s legs. Dedue, as soon as she’s free you’re going to pull her away.” The Professor’s tone was calm and authoritative, while Hilda’s answer was shaky. Marianne’s gaze followed Dedue as he carefully stepped through the crumbling remains of the house and knelt in front of her.

“Hold on to my arms,” he instructed, holding them out. Marianne reached up and gripped his arms tightly, just below his elbows. He took hold of her upper arms, his hold soft.

“On three,” the Professor said, beginning to count.

“Forgive me,” Dedue murmured. On three, the weight holding down her legs vanished and Dedue pulled her away from it. Marianne screamed. It hurt, her legs were limp and dragged painfully behind her, she could feel herself bleeding anew without the pressure on her wounds. Her throat was burning, swollen, there wasn’t enough water in her body for tears.

“Turn her over, carefully,” the Professor prompted. Marianne felt her body turned, until she was resting on her back, the pain so encompassing that she wanted to vomit it out. 

Something was set between her teeth. “Bite down,” Dedue said, and she did. Warm hands enveloped her own. She didn’t look to see what was happening to her legs. Instead she tried in vain to get her breathing under control. Every shift and jostle sent her panting, struggling against the urge to escape.

“Don’t let her fall unconscious, Dedue,” the Professor said.

“Marianne, open your eyes,” he said. She opened them and saw Dedue leaning over her, his face drawn with worry. “Keep them open. You may have a concussion.”

 _Oh_ , she thought, _that explains the counting_.

“You’re going to be fine. Hilda and the Professor are nearly done making the splints. Then Mercedes will help you start healing. But you must stay awake for those things.” There was a slight pressure around one of her hands.

She squeezed back, glancing down to see one of Dedue’s large hands wrapped completely around her own. His fingers were filthy with blood and dirt; he must have hurt himself digging her out. She felt a pang in her gut. Then she looked up at the sky. Dark grey. The sky would be full of smoke and ash until rain cleared it out.

When her legs were bound together, Dedue lifted her up and carried her from the ruins of the house. Somehow, she had not died.


End file.
